Compartment 14B

I just tried the “Superbaby” game that J is so adept at; I lifted Grommet over my head with a “Whee!” and… splat! A small stream of spitup perfectly targeted my right eye. I think I’ll leave the baby-flying to her daddy.

----------------------

It’s odd to think that in about a month we’ll be starting the Grom on solids. I’ll keep nursing as well, but at around six months I’ll cease to become her only source of nourishment.

On the one hand, it makes me a tad wistful – right now, every eyelash, every ounce of yummy baby flesh, was built from building blocks I provided, and I think that is so cool. Also, we’ll be saying goodbye to the pooping-once-or-twice-a-week routine and I am given to understand that the poop she will produce on solid food will be, erm, more objectionable to boot.

On the other hand, well, it’s kind of time. She eats more often than she used to in order to keep up with the demands of growing ever larger. Time was, she ate every 3 hours; now she only goes that long between feeds a couple of times a day and it’s more like every hour or two. She stares and drools at anything I put in my mouth. She might not know what it tastes like but she seems pretty convinced that it must be good, or at least better than what she’s getting now. And it’ll free me up somewhat when there’s something J will be able feed her if she gets hungry. I’ll be able to go back to the gym more and maybe even see the odd friend or run the odd errand without her.

It’s hard to think of her growing up. Soon she’ll be rolling over, crawling, walking, talking, eating real food, etc. and these things are exciting to contemplate, but... right now I turn my head and see her in her crib, her little jaw moving rhythmically as she sucks in her sleep, and I think, I don’t care if you just puked in my eye, you are perfect just as you are.